


fly with the turbulence (run through the flames)

by polyamory



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Grantaire, Bisexual Character of Color, Dancer Grantaire, Demisexuality, Multi, Oblivious Enjolras, Pining Enjolras, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 14:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3981475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyamory/pseuds/polyamory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to seduce your (boyfriend's) best friend in 10 kind of complicated steps (depending on how oblivious said best friend is) using only German food, Adam Sandler and a pair of bobby pins.<br/>Or: Combeferre and Grantaire start dating and Enjolras has a hard time keeping his feelings in check (turns out he doesn't have to, after all).</p>
            </blockquote>





	fly with the turbulence (run through the flames)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this post](http://adamantstove.tumblr.com/post/104486418011) on tumblr  
> whooop i churned out 7k of poly in like ?? a week? a little under a week? because lbr this fandom needs more c/r/e  
> anyways, this is for my friend izzy because today is their birthday and she gushed to me about dancer grantaire and i promised her some c/r/e  
> i love you, izzy, happy bday and i hope you like this. \\*.*/  
> (and also thanks as always to my beta emerson)  
> also for reference, schlager is the german equivalent to country ([listen to this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ua9af7xC9c))  
> [bratwurst](http://www.schallerweber.com/cms/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Nuernberger.jpg) is the classic german sausage (it's like a gazillion times better than american sausage trust me)  
> [currywurst](http://www.funny-frisch.de/files/theme/produkte/chipsfrisch/currywurst_flavor.png) means curry sausage and it's usually sliced sausage in a curry sauce (even better than bratwurst)  
> [döner](http://apps.tourisme-alsace.info/photos/masevaux/photos/241002073_1.jpg) doesn't have a translation because it's virtually unknown in the us. it's shredded meat (lamb or pig) with lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, onions and a yogurt sauce served in a flatbread (most delicious food ever)  
> [kalter hund](http://www.legend-dresden.de/ap/homepage/inhalte/BildContainer/kalterhund.gif) aka cold dog (hedgehog slice?) is a cake made with chocolate and layers of kekse aka sweet crackers  
> that just for a little reference,  
> now i hope you enjoy (and if you do don't be afraid to comment)

Combeferre and Enjolras have been friends since forever, since kindergarten. They got into social rights activism together, they survived high school together as the only not-straight kids in school, they came out to each other years ago: Combeferre as bisexual and Enjolras as demisexual homoromantic.

They've always done everything together so it only makes sense that they'd be roommates in college.

And it's not like it's a problem – it's not, it's really not – it's just that Enjolras thought this would be easier and it's turning out to be a lot harder than he thought because Combeferre hit a growth spurt in senior year and Enjolras watched him grow until Combeferre could lean his chin on top of Enjolras' head without any effort.

And then he got new glasses, the awful hipster kind, and now he's made a habit out of pushing them up his nose when they inevitably slide down during long study sessions.

And it's not like Enjolras hadn't noticed before that Combeferre was attractive – ridiculously so – it's just that now he's really grown into himself and he's a lot more confident and he keeps wearing sweaters and button ups with the sleeves rolled up and it's killing Enjolras.

It's all killing him and quite frankly, it's just too much.

And the worst thing is, there's literally no escape because Combeferre is always there.

Always in their room being ridiculously attractive all over the place, chewing on pens and gesticulating with his big hands when he talks and Enjolras just needs him to stop for like one afternoon at least.

The fact is, his studying has been seriously impacted by it.

He tries to study in the quiet of his room but Combeferre is there.

He tries to go to the library to study but Combeferre tags along because that's how it's always been, they've studied together since middle school and it would be weird if they suddenly stopped now.

And it is weird, the one time that Enjolras manages to sneak out of their room while Combeferre is taking a shower to escape to the library. He can't concentrate without the angry clacking of Combeferre's loud typing – it always sounds angry, whether Combeferre actually is or not (Enjolras knows that's because Combeferre learned to type on an ancient computer with a keyboard that was so unusable you had to hit the keys real hard to get them to type anything).

Every little noise makes him jump and he forgets his water – Combeferre always brings two water bottles because Enjolras always forgets his – so he comes out of the library grumpy and with a dehydration headache.

It's a real problem because Combeferre is everywhere. Neither of them go out much – they're not the most social or popular people – and when they go out it's usually together, to the park or the coffee shop or the secondhand bookstore downtown.

It's a real problem – until it's not.

Because suddenly Combeferre is out longer, leaves earlier, texts Enjolras that, sorry but he can't meet up between classes.

That goes on for about two weeks until Enjolras finally catches Combeferre long enough to have a real talk with him.

"What's up with you, lately, Ferre?" he asks, not trying to sounds accusatory, trying to sound like someone Combeferre can tell if something has been troubling him.

"It's–" Combeferre breaks off, which he doesn't do often because he's always annoyingly eloquent unless he's flustered or excited, "it's nothing really."

Enjolras wishes, suddenly, fiercely, that he could tell if Combeferre is blushing or not but it's impossible to tell because his skin is so dark.

"It doesn't feel like nothing. I've hardly seen you in the last week except for meals." Enjolras tries – and fails – not to pout.

Combeferre looks away, runs one of his large hands through his short hair. "There's kind of – been someone, these last two weeks."

"Been someone?" Enjolras asks tentatively.

"I don't wanna call it anything yet, we haven't talked about labels yet but, yeah there is someone."

Enjolras is very aware of the fact that Combeferre is playing the Pronoun Game and he's not having it. "Who is this someone? Do I get to meet them?"

"His name is Grantaire and, well, you know him, actually. He works at the coffee shop on campus."

Enjolras thinks for a moment but comes up blank. It must show on his face because Combeferre continues, "Short, kinda stocky, Indian, curly, black hair?"

"With the beanies?" Enjolras adds and Combeferre nods, "Yeah, that's him."

"Well, you should bring him around sometime," Enjolras says, easy as all that, because he's casual, so casual, because he's not having his hope crushed or anything, nope, he's completely casual.

"Yeah?" Combeferre asks and his eyes are so bright when he looks up at Enjolras, he looks so fucking hopeful. "I really hope you two will get along."

And then it – well, it becomes even more of a problem.

Because Combeferre makes good on his promise and he brings Grantaire over. A lot.

Mostly they study because, Enjolras learns, Grantaire is taking an astronomy course and while he's all caught up on the myths of the various constellations he's less than stellar (Grantaire's own words, pun intended apparently) at maths.

Enjolras actually learns a lot about Grantaire because while they're studying – and the three of them spend a lot of time studying together – Grantaire talks and he talks a lot.

Enjolras learns that Grantaire works at the coffee shop almost every shift he can get. ("The only one who works more than me is Feuilly, I swear to god that guy hasn't slept in like three months.")

He learns that Grantaire is majoring in art, or "shapes and colors" as he calls it, and minoring in mythology.

He also learns that Grantaire is infinitely sarcastic and self-deprecating and it seems to be Combeferre's mission in life to say as many kind and complementary (and true) things about Grantaire as possible when he starts in on one of his belittling tirades.

Enjolras approves. Of Combeferre's doings, that is, not of Grantaire's constant devaluation of everything he's ever done.

Because, this is also something Enjolras learns, Grantaire is incredibly funny, witty and smart. He can talk about art for forever and he knows dozens of myths, Greek, Roman, what have you, off the top of his head.

He dances, Enjolras learns when he walks in one day on Grantaire stretching, one hand on Combeferre's desk for balance, and doing – dance-y things.

It's amazing to watch, how Grantaire transforms in front of his eyes from clumsy and slumped – always trying to take up less space – to standing straight up, movements fluid and graceful.

Grantaire stops as soon as he sees Enjolras standing in the doorway, mumbling some apology about using their room as a dance studio.

Enjolras wants to say it's alright, it's fine by him. More than fine, fantastic. Enjolras just wants to watch Grantaire move a little longer, the stretch and pull of his muscles, the arch of his back, but naturally the words get stuck in his throat and his face feels hot and he stumbles on his way into the room, sinking down on his bed, and they wait in uncomfortable silence until Combeferre gets home.

That's the way it always seems to be when it's just the two of them, Grantaire rarely talks to him alone and never quite meets his eye and Enjolras' words dry up like his throat has turned into a desert where usually words flow smoothly, like water.

And, okay, he's maybe a little afraid of Grantaire not liking him (but only a little), of coming on too strong – because he knows he tends to – or talking too much about things Grantaire doesn't care about.

About that last thing, it turns out, he shouldn't have worried because it seems that there's no topic in the world that Grantaire doesn't care about. Or rather, there's no topic he doesn't know at least something about and Grantaire likes to affect this air of nonchalance when they argue– which they always end up doing, whether it be friendly debate or heated argument– but Enjolras is actually pretty sure that Grantaire actually cares a lot more than he lets on.

He's a brilliant debate partner either way, but Enjolras thinks he could be positively radiant if he just let some of his compassion shine through.

But Grantaire scoffs at the mere mention of passion, says he's not passionate about anything except for breakfast food and staying sober. But for such declarations he's surprisingly – or not so surprisingly – passionate about a lot of things: art, obviously, mythology, dancing, fencing, boxing (another two of his hobbies), kittens, knitting, and Combeferre.

He's awfully passionate about Combeferre, engages him in discussions about everything from the Golden Northern Bumble Bee to ghost hunting methods.

A lock of his dark hair escapes from its little bun and dangles tantalizingly in front of Grantaire's eyes and Enjolras can tell it's distracting Combeferre and hopes Combeferre can't tell that it's distracting Enjolras in equal measures.

Grantaire always has a colorful selection of hair ties on his wrist and he always has at least one red hair tie which he gladly hands to Enjolras when his hair keeps falling into his eyes while he's studying.

The first time it happens Enjolras just stares at him, not understanding what the offer means, until Grantaire rolls his eyes and says, "Your constant huffing is keeping me from concentrating on my homework, so just take the hair tie and be done with it."

Enjolras takes care to always give him his hair tie back before he leaves but Grantaire just keeps offering time and time again until Enjolras caves in and keeps it. He starts wearing his hair up in a bun more often after that and even when he's not using the hair tie it's always on his wrist.

Grantaire's hair is not entirely long enough to be put up in a bun – not that it keeps him from trying – and so he has to use bobby pins to keep the unruly strands out of his eyes.

His hair is black and silky and the short hairs at the nape of his neck curl in an entirely too distracting way.

It's seriously gonna be Enjolras' downfall one day.

So it's probably fair to say, he figures, that he's uncomfortably much into both of them, his best friend and his best friend's boyfriend.

The internet, when he googles "what to do when you have a crush on two people who are dating", is entirely unhelpful. All that comes up are articles like "How To Steal Your Crush Away" and that's not what he wants. At all.

It's possibly the thing he wants least, breaking them up, because Combeferre is so, so happy and Grantaire is so, so good for him.  

(And they look so, so good together.)

He thinks it can't get worse, but then dancing season begins.

When dancing season begins – Enjolras didn't even know that was a thing before he met Grantaire but apparently it is – Grantaire starts wearing leggings and tights with too large t-shirts. All. The time.

He also starts spending more and more time in the dancing studio and less time studying with Enjolras and Combeferre. It ends, horrifyingly, in Enjolras being dragged along to the studio to watch Grantaire practice.

"Are you sure he's okay with me coming along?" Enjolras asks for about the fifth time since he and Combeferre left their room.

"Yes, of course I am," Combeferre smiles. "He said so himself."

"I don't know, it's always just been you and you're his boyfriend, that's different."

Combeferre gives him a look before he sighs. "But you two are friends, right?"

"Yeah?" Enjolras says and hates that it comes out sounding like a question.

"Then it'll be okay," Combeferre assures him.

Enjolras decides to trust him. Combeferre has rarely lead him wrong.

It turns out to be simultaneously not as bad as he'd imagined and a hundred times worse.

It's not as bad because Grantaire is completely okay with him being there, he's really happy to see Enjolras, actually.

He smiles something big when he sees Combeferre and it only gets bigger when he notices Enjolras there, too.

"Hey, you. Thought I'd never see you again," Grantaire smiles. "Glad to see Ferre could finally convince you to come along." He grins at Combeferre who ducks his head like he's embarrassed.

Enjolras doesn't get the chance to say anything in reply which, judging by how dry his mouth is, is probably for the better.

It's also worse because, well, it's two and a half hours straight of watching Grantaire dance. And if that little glimpse he'd caught before had wounded him, this kills him.

He's pretty sure he's actually, very much dying. His throat is dry – thank god Combeferre remembered to bring water for him – and his heart is beating erratically. Enjolras thinks his head might be about to explode there's so much blood rushing to his cheeks and making him flush.

He and Combeferre sit on the sidelines, watching Grantaire do pirouettes and other complicated-looking things that Enjolras doesn't know the name of and would not be flexible enough to do anyway.

"He's amazing like this, isn't he?" Combeferre says out of the blue. "Well, he always is but this, it's something else entirely. Don't you think?"

"I, uh, what?" Enjolras squeaks.

"And let me tell you, he is flexible," Combeferre says with a wicked smirk.

Enjolras almost swallows his tongue.

So yes, Grantaire is painfully attractive all over the place and while Enjolras is used to Combeferre doing detrimental things to his heart, it gets worse.

He can hardly believe it but yes, it gets worse.

And like, he gets it, Combeferre and Grantaire are both really, really hot and if he could he would probably be making out with them all the time, too, but why they have to do it in front of him all the time? That's what he does not understand.

He walks in on them the first time, lying on Combeferre's bed, still clothed, thank  _ god  _ – although Grantaire's hand is making its way up under Combeferre's sweater – and making out like teenagers. 

Enjolras freezes where he stands in the doorway and lets out the most embarrassing sound imaginable.

Combeferre and Grantaire break apart, looking up at him with wide eyes for a moment, before rushing into action to sit up and disentangle themselves but Enjolras is already backing out of the room, stuttering apologies and shutting the door firmly behind himself.

After that it only happens more. He walks in on the two of them a number of times, sure, but it seems like they just can't keep their hands off each other – and Enjolras gets it, he does.

Combeferre will reward Grantaire with soft, reverent kisses whenever Grantaire gets an answer right.

When they go watch Grantaire practice he'll walk over to where the two of them are sitting to get himself some water and a breathless kiss from Combeferre. And Combeferre will lean up into the kiss, chasing after Grantaire's mouth, and his shirt will ride up just so, revealing a slip of dark skin.

After they've been dating for some time Combeferre suddenly starts insisting Enjolras join them for more and more activities.

He doesn't know whether Combeferre feels bad for spending so much time with Grantaire and is trying to make up for it, but whatever it is, it only starts with him coming along to dance practice.

Suddenly there's movie nights here and visits to bookshops there and "I'm meeting 'Aire at the coffee shop after his shift ends, why don't you come along? You've been moaning for coffee all day."

Enjolras finds himself roped into more and more outings he's sure are supposed to be dates, but Grantaire doesn't seem to mind at all that his boyfriend's best friend keeps tagging along – or at least if he does he's very good at hiding it.

Still, Enjolras doesn't want him to think he has to suffer through Enjolras' company just to keep Combeferre, so he decides to talk to him one day when they're alone.

They're in the new German style diner that's opened near campus and Combeferre has just excused himself to the bathroom.

"You know," Enjolras starts, figuring he might as well just get it out, straight forward and to the point. "If you want me to leave so you can go on a date in peace, you just have to say so."

Grantaire starts coughing - maybe not the best idea to start talking right as he'd taken a sip of  water– but manages to also look at Enjolras like he's just started loudly singing along to the German Schlager that's playing in the background.

Enjolras hands him a napkin and goes on, "I could make up an emergency and say I have to leave right away, a due date I forgot about."

Grantaire has stopped spluttering and is wiping his mouth with the napkin.

"I know you're probably too polite to say anything in front of Ferre, but you two have hardly had any time alone and I know you must be getting sick of it."

"Or maybe," Grantaire starts, folding the napkin down, "I just haven't said anything because I don't mind having you here. Some would even go so far as to say I actually  _ enjoy  _ your company." He looks at Enjolras with an expression of comical shock, but there's a smile playing around his lips that he can't quite suppress. 

"And believe me, we get plenty time alone," he says with a wink just as Combeferre gets back.

"What did I miss?" Combeferre asks, one eyebrow raised at both of them with just the hint of a grin.

"We were just having a lil chat, Enj and I," Grantaire grins right back, like the cat that got the cream.

"Did you?" Combeferre asks. He's looking at Grantaire intently, one arm around his shoulders.

"Do you know what you'll order yet?" Enjolras asks, trying to diffuse the weird tension that's building. If they start making out in the middle of the restaurant he thinks he might not survive it. Thankfully Combeferre is too much of a private person to do something like that. Probably. Hopefully.

"I think I'll have the Bratwurst," Combeferre says. "It's originally German."

"I'll try the Currywurst and see where that gets me. Have you decided yet?" Grantaire asks, looking up at Enjolras.

That puts him in a pickle because he has not, actually. "Döner," he says, the first thing his eyes fall on which, as the menu informs him, is not a German food, but very popular in Germany.

It ends up being – not bad, actually. It's different than what he expected, served in a flatbread, all shredded meat and lettuce.

Though what surprises him most is when Combeferre orders dessert– Kalter Hund, which means 'cold dog' apparently but does not contain any dog, the waitress assures them– and Grantaire asks "Could we have three spoons, actually? Thank you."

Enjolras thinks his eyes might be in danger of actually popping out of his skull and rolling away out of sheer bafflement.

"What?" is all Grantaire says when he sees Enjolras' look.

He has to swallow hard before he can say, "Nothing."

Kalter Hund turns out to be a cake made with chocolate and layers of sweet crackers and it's delicious.

Then, as the days go on, Grantaire's art class starts a new section and Grantaire starts drawing with chalks, trailing colorful dust and leaving fingerprints and smudges on everything he touches.

"My teacher said I have to start 'honing my figure and portrait drawing skills,'" he makes quotation marks around the words, still clutching the stub of green chalk he's been using. "Because apparently no one can make money with just abstract art any more. Apparently portraits is what it's at." Grantaire says, looking up from his sketch book. "Can you believe her?" he huffs agitatedly.

"No, I can't," Combeferre responds. "Can you?" He looks over at Enjolras, stretching languidly.

"Quit moving," Grantaire grumbles.

He's been using them as models for his practice, but he never seems quite content with his results.

He's had them stand, before, had them sit and lay down and prop each other up but right now they're both sitting on Combeferre's bed, leaning back against the wall with their books splayed open across their laps.

They should be studying, both of them, but Combeferre has abandoned his books in favor of watching Grantaire watch them. Enjolras is only pretending to study while he sneaks glances at Combeferre and Grantaire through his lashes.

The situation as it is is less than ideal but it could be much, much worse and Enjolras doesn't actually know what to do about any of it except quietly suffer through so he's pretty sure things aren't likely to change any time soon.

He is, of course, totally, terrifyingly wrong.

Movie nights – which quickly become a tradition – actually start with Combeferre claiming that "It's impossible to watch all of the Lord Of The Rings movies in one sitting."

"Are we talking extended edition? Because buddy, pal, broski, you are so on," Grantaire replies, eyes glimmering with something mirthful and challenging.

Of course neither Combeferre nor Grantaire have ever been able to back down from a challenge.

They rope Enjolras into it to act as referee to see who of the two of them falls asleep first. (It's Enjolras.)

That first time it doesn’t even feel like he's intruding on a date, it's just a night in with friends, pizza and movies.

Some other nights feel awfully much like dates. They hit too close to home, are too close to something Enjolras' whole being is straining for but he knows he can't have.

"You have to stay for this one, E," Grantaire says one night. "I'm about to show you the best movies ever made."

Enjolras stays. He admits to being curious as to what, in Grantaire's taste, constitutes 'the best movies ever made.'

He did not expect Adam Sandler.

He did certainly not expect Grantaire to make them watch every single one of Adam Sandler's movies.  

"Why? Why, Grantaire, for the love of god and all that is holy. Why?" Combeferre groans after the third movie when it becomes apparent that there won't be any Adam Sandler free movies in their near future.

"I identify with Adam Sandler a lot, okay?" Grantaire replies with a completely straight face.  

Combeferre looks utterly gobsmacked for a moment before he almost growls, "No! No, you do  _ not. _  I will  _ not  _ stand for this."  

Grantaire grins up at him, cheeky as all heavens. "What, don't you want me to take you out on 50 first dates?"  

Combeferre just looks at him, before getting up from the couch.

"That's it, I'm breaking up with you" he says and storms out.  

Enjolras, left in the silence that follows, looks over at Grantaire and, super awkwardly like he always does, says "He's. Not serious, you know."  

"I know," Grantaire replies, smile still playing at the edge of his mouth.

Enjolras breathes easier for it.

"When do you think he'll be back?" Grantaire asks.

"I don't know but I'll text him to bring takeout while he's gone," Enjolras says, already pulling out his phone.

They hear Combeferre's phone ping right outside the door and neither of them can quite stifle their laughter.

"If you want takeout you can go and get it yourself, you lazy bums!" Combeferre calls through the door but a few moments later there's the sound of his footsteps down the stairs.

He's back twenty minutes later with boxes of Chinese takeout.

"Bless your soul," Grantaire exclaims when Combeferre hands him a box of steaming noodles. "Bless your soul, your livestock and your children."

"Well if I'd known that food is all it takes for you to bless me, I would've brought you some much earlier," Combeferre grins.

He plops down on the couch next to Grantaire and reaches down to give Enjolras a box where he's sitting in front of the couch.

"Mmh," Grantaire moans around his first mouthful. Enjolras almost drops his chopsticks.

"This is so good, You should try some of this, Enj," Combeferre says, already leaning down and offering Enjolras some of his food.

Enjolras takes it, careful not to spill any and it's only when he notices Grantaire looking intently at the two of them that he realizes what they're doing, what this must look like, Combeferre, with Enjolras sitting at his feet, leaning down to feed Enjolras from his own chopsticks.

He looks away from Grantaire's dark gaze quickly, ducking his head to hide his face which feels like it's showing every one of his emotions like an open book.

"Sorry, I-" Enjolras jumps up suddenly, almost toppling over the takeout container still in his lap. "Be right back," he calls fleeing to the bathroom.

After he's shut the door behind himself and locked it for good measure Enjolras just lets himself breathe for a moment, lets himself cool down, touch base again.

The blood is still rushing in his ears but at least that means it's not all rushing south anymore.

"Calm down," Enjolras whispers furiously, staring down his reflection in the mirror. His reflection stares back. Obviously.

Enjolras sighs deeply. "Okay, let's do this."

Combeferre and Grantaire are sitting on the couch when Enjolras emerges. They also stop talking as soon as they spot him which makes his stomach drop and his heart beat in his throat.

The movie is paused and for a moment the room is completely silent as Combeferre and Grantaire just look at him.

"Sorry, I. Um," Enjolras doesn’t actually know what he's trying to say. "I gotta, uh. Go, I gotta go. An emergency came up, I'm so sorry. I'll catch you later, okay?"

And then he flees the room before either of them can say anything at all.

Great.  _ Fucking great. _   


Grantaire texts him half an hour later.  _ Leaving now, _  it says. 

Enjolras feels bad they obviously cut their movie night short and a little embarrassed but he's also infinitely grateful to Grantaire.

There's some awkwardness between the three of them after that night. Combeferre and Grantaire are much less affectionate with each other and at first Enjolras thinks they might be fighting but then he realizes they're only like that when he's around.

Sometimes he looks up and finds Combeferre looking at him, pensive and searching, but he always looks away when Enjolras catches his eye and never says anything about it.

Things go back to normal after a while, mostly through the power of Grantaire's sheer will to not let things be awkward which is really quite impressive.

One time Enjolras overhears snippets of a conversation between him and Combeferre as they stand outside the door.

"-have to respect his boundaries," Combeferre is saying and he sounds, angry? Pained?

"I won't let this ruin your friendship. You can't let that happen, we won't let that happen," Grantaire says and he just sounds determined.

So Grantaire doesn't let it get weird and even if Enjolras is maybe a little hurt that of Combeferre and Grantaire the latter is the one that's making an effort to keep Enjolras in the loop, well that's between him and himself.

Things go back to normal, Combeferre and he go back to their easy friendship, Combeferre and Grantaire go back to being disgustingly cute together and Grantaire and Enjolras go back to their debates and banter.

Grantaire starts drawing them again, too. He has first Combeferre and then Enjolras sit for individual portraits.

"Quit it," he huffs, paintbrush hovering millimeters away from the canvas, when Enjolras leans in to better look over Grantaire's shoulder.

"What?"

"Quit hovering over my shoulder and watching me. I can't work like that. Go sit over there," he waves with his paintbrush at Enjolras' bed, "and make funny faces until Combeferre laughs."

Enjolras does as he's asked – or ordered – and the portrait, when Grantaire finally allows either of them to see it, is breathtaking.

It's Combeferre so it's breathtaking for that fact alone, but the way Grantaire painted him...

There's a small smile on Combeferre's lips, barely there if you don't know where to look for it – but Enjolras does because he's spent years with Combeferre and Combeferre always tries to hold back his smiles and it always makes the corners of his mouth curl just a little.

He's looking at something – or someone – out of view and his eyes are sparkling and there's an expression, an emotion on his face that Enjolras can't quite pinpoint.

The background is simple, the cloudless sky, a crisp, sharp blue that matches the color of the shirt collar peeking out underneath Combeferre's sweater.

There's love – reverence even – plain in every single brushstroke.

The painting is a love letter in and of itself.

"It's beautiful," Enjolras breathes.

"All depends on the model, y'know," Grantaire shrugs.

Yeah, right.

Grantaire pulls a drop cloth out of his backpack and hangs it up so Enjolras sits facing the windows where Combeferre had sat with his back to the windows.

It's significantly harder to be the model than to just sit by while someone else is the model. He finds he's getting more fidgety and suddenly, his nose is itching and he just can't stop himself from moving around, and he doesn't know what he's supposed to look at. Is he supposed to look at Grantaire? Does he want Enjolras to look out the window?

Finally Grantaire stops painting. "Combeferre," he groans. "Can you please make him sit still for like five minutes so I can at least get my basics done."

Enjolras ducks his head self consciously. He feels his cheeks heat up. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"It's not– dude, don't be sorry." Grantaire sighs. "It's hard, I get it I've had to sit for people before. Just try not to think about it too much. Combeferre'll tell you a story or something and it'll be over before you know it."

And it is, Grantaire's right.

Combeferre starts talking to him about his classes and how his family is doing. Then he just retells old stories from when they were younger and getting into all kinds of shenanigans.

"Remember the good old times," Combeferre says, laughing wide and his eyes crinkling adorably. "Like that time you broke your arm because I told you it was impossible for you to climb to the very top of the tree but you just wouldn't believe me. You better be thanking me every day that I dragged that mattress out of the house and under the tree to catch your fall."

Enjolras wants to defend himself because he wasn't even that high up when he fell, okay? And he was only seven and Combeferre had practically dared him to do it. But he's not allowed to move. Still he's already opening his mouth to talk back when Combeferre tsks.

"You're not supposed to move, E. Don't you want Grantaire to get a good grade on his project?" He teases, shaking his head as if he's deeply disappointed in Enjolras.

"Ta-da," Grantaire says, blessedly, finally, after what seems like a small eternity to Enjolras.

The painting, when he walks over and leans over Grantaire's shoulder to look at it, is beautiful, but he was kinda already expecting that after seeing the first one.

Enjolras looks at it and it's like, he realizes, recognizes, knows rationally that that is him there, but at the same time there's a kind of disconnection between looking at the painting and actually having sat in that very same chair.

The man in the painting is, he's radiant, there's no other word for it. The late afternoon sun paints him in gold, his skin is glowing in the light, a warm, gold brown color. There's a spark in his eyes and his face is soft yet somehow he looks passionate.

It looks similar to the painting of Combeferre, but Enjolras can't quite put his finger on why because they don’t actually look alike.

"It's perfect," Combeferre says from Grantaire's other side.

"Yeah, or at least it comes real close," Grantaire replies, looking over at Enjolras for some reason.

"You did a very good job," Enjolras agrees and he thinks it's the right thing to say – it's certainly true – only maybe it's not, because Grantaire's face is twisting into a frown and he looks vaguely displeased.

"Oh really?" He huffs, frustrated. "That's all you have to say about it? Oh come on, Enjolras, please. Not even you can be that oblivious. What more do we have to–"

"Grantaire," Combeferre cuts him off before he can finish. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing what I have to do because you two are being unnecessarily complicated about this."

"Remember when we had that talk? About respecting boundaries?" Combeferre asks intently, though he's looking a little helpless and panicked.

"Okay, well are you uncomfortable with this conversation because then I'll stop, but if you're just referring to Enjolras' boundaries then I think you should let him decide for himself."

"Let me decide what?" Enjolras asks because he has no idea what's going on right now and he'd really like to get a word in edgewise.

Combeferre looks like he's really dreading this conversation and Enjolras is getting kind of worried.

"Combeferre," Grantaire says gently, turning to him. Over his shoulder he says to Enjolras, "Sorry, I think we just need to talk this out real quick before we continue our conversation."

Enjolras can only make a go ahead gesture, confused and worried about what's going on.

"Combeferre," Grantaire says again. "I know you're afraid of losing your best friend and I understand that, it's valid, but I think it's clouding how you see the situation. I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure about what I've been seeing and, you know Enjolras. Even if I'm wrong, do you really think he would let that ruin your friendship? I think you're way too important to him. And he's important to you. And I'm begging you, let's just try it, let's just tell him and see what he thinks."

"Um, guys," Enjolras says, thoroughly puzzled, and he hates to interrupt and all but, "what if you actually told me about the thing instead of just talking about telling me about the thing. I don't know that would be kinda, well. Neat."

Combeferre and Grantaire both turn to him.

"Yeah, sorry," Combeferre sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Maybe you should sit down for this part."

"O-kay?" Enjolras says, but dutifully sits down on his bed.

Grantaire and Combeferre sit on Combeferre's bed across from Enjolras. They're sitting close, but not touching until Grantaire reaches out and takes hold of Combeferre's hand.

Combeferre looks up at him and smiles, a wry little thing, before turning back to Enjolras.

"So, I guess," he sighs. "Actually I don't really know where to start." He looks over at Grantaire for help.

"Well," Grantaire starts, "over, the last few weeks, maybe months," he makes a so-so gesture, "we, Combeferre and Grantaire, have been, wondering, I guess, and talking about our feelings. For you. And we've been wondering about how you might feel about being in a relationship with us. Both of us."

Half of this is mumbled or rushed so Enjolras sits in silence for a moment while he works all that through in his head. "Wait, what?"

"We –" Combeferre makes a frustrated sound. "I like you and Grantaire likes you and we were wondering if you liked us, too. In a romantic way."

"Wait, you like me?" He looks at Combeferre, then at Grantaire. "And you like me, too?"

"Yeah," they nod.

"And you want me to – join you in your relationship? I don't know how to word this, fuck." Enjolras is acutely aware that he's repeating information they've already given him but he needs to get this clear, get it all straightened out in his head so it makes sense. Thankfully Combeferre and Grantaire are patient with him.

"Yeah, polyamory. And we'd want it to be all three of us dating each other – like an equilateral triangle."

"Or a circle," Grantaire adds. "A triangular pyramid, if you're into 3-D."

"And if you want that," Combeferre adds.

Enjolras doesn't even realize he's been just sitting there staring into the distance, trying to sort his thoughts, until Combeferre says, "Enj? Can you please say something? Anything? Anything at all?"

"I- why? Why do you want me to-" he waves his hand around in an aborted gesture.

Grantaire scoffs but when Enjolras' face doesn't change he says, "Oh, come on."

"I don't- I don't want some kinda ego stroking, I just don't understand. You work well together, you're good for each other and you're both happy. You are, right?" Enjolras asks, suddenly concerned.

"Yes, we are, Enj,"Combeferre says. "We're happy, and we work well together, and we think we would work even better together if it were the three of us. We want you with us because you're amazing. I mean," he blushes. "You know, I've always looked up to you a little."

And that's just wrong. Enjolras has always been the one looking up to Combeferre, looking to him for guidance.

When Enjolras had so much rage inside of him, more than his body could contain, and he hadn't known what to do with it because he wanted to fight every wrong at the same time, Combeferre had given him direction, had put up a battle plan and pointed him at one problem for him to handle at a time.

And in a way, Combeferre has been his moral compass as well. Where Enjolras thought everything was fair game in the face of a bigger goal to achieve, Combeferre always thought about more than just Enjolras' at times narrow focus. Combeferre thought about consequences and casualties and he put his foot down, brought Enjolras back to earth, when he was going to far and brought things back into perspective for him.

"You are brilliant," Grantaire adds. "And being with you is interesting and fun. And you look adorable when you pout."

There's another moment of heavy silence while Enjolras tries to get a grip on the situation. The two people he'd resolved himself to crush on in secret because he was sure they didn't have feelings for him and because they were in a relationship with each other, these two people are suddenly declaring that they very much like him and would like for him to join them in their relationship.

"Enj? If you need more time to make your decision, that's okay. There's literally no pressure to decide right this very moment," Grantaire looks concerned in the face of Enjolras' silence.

"This would not just be a sex thing or a one time thing, right?" Enjolras asks. "You wouldn't just want a threesome or something like that."

"No,"Combeferre shakes his head. "We want a relationship with you. Dates, movie nights, coffee together, and eventually sex if that's something we would all like to do together."

"Yes, I would want that," Enjolras says, becoming more sure with each passing moment. "All of that. At least the dating part, absolutely. Yes."

"So you'd be willing to try?" Combeferre starts smiling tentatively but it grows bigger when Enjolras says, "Yeah, I am. But you both know I can be complicated."

"We're all complicated, Enj. And don't worry, we know you, we know how to put up with you." Combeferre's face is alive with happiness.

Grantaire just looks at him, a smile in his eyes.

"I like you, too, by the way. Both of you." Enjolras smiles back. "And you look great in leggings, Grantaire."

That makes Grantaire laugh, for some reason. His grin wide and wild.

"You look great with a bun," Grantaire counters.

"Why, thank you," Enjolras laughs.

"Can I kiss you?" Grantaire asks, almost shy, and it's both unexpected and somehow what Enjolras has been waiting for for such an impossibly long time.

"Yeah," Enjolras says and is mighty proud his voice isn't shaking.

Enjolras gets up and walks the short distance to Combeferre's bed until his knees are bumping against Grantaire's and he can lean down and put a hand on Grantaire's upper arm.

Grantaire takes hold of Enjolras' chin and pulls him down into a kiss.

Enjolras has to use his grip on Grantaire's arm to steady himself and his other hand lands on Grantaire's shoulder.

Grantaire's lips against his are chapped and a little rough, but Grantaire is ever the gentler for it.

Enjolras sweeps his hand up Grantaire's neck to bury it into his soft curls.

When they break apart they're both breathing hard.

"Can I kiss you, too?" Combeferre asks after a moment.

"Yeah," Enjolras says, twisting towards him from where he somehow ended up half kneeling on the bed, one knee on the mattress, the other foot on the ground. "Yeah, um, please do."

He moves over so he's basically hovering over Combeferre's lap, not quite sitting down. It ends up being a moot point anyway when Combeferre grabs him by the hips and pulls Enjolras down into his lap.

It's a little strange, kissing Combeferre, because they've been friends since forever and now they're kissing?

It's easy to get over it, though, after the initial moment of weirdness.

Combeferre gives more freely where Grantaire holds back and Enjolras finds himself stroking Combeferre's cheek, just the tips of his fingers as featherlight points of contact.

Combeferre is still gripping his hips when they stop kissing.

"He's a good kisser, isn't he?" Grantaire asks from next to them, turned sidewards so he can watch them better. "Never holds anything back when it comes to kissing."

"And he's usually so quiet and reserved," Enjolras can't help but smirk as he looks over at Grantaire.

"Which is, of course, a myth perpetuated by the government because Combeferre snores really loudly and always forgets to call ahead and make dinner reservations."

"The old ladies in our neighborhood used to warn Combeferre not to get involved with a troublemaker like me while in reality at least half the time we got into trouble it was completely his fault." Enjolras shakes his head disappointedly.

Grantaire huffs a laugh. "Of course it was."

Combeferre, when Enjolras looks at him again, is watching their exchange, eyes warm and smile content and Enjolras, thinking back to the paintings from earlier, finally understands why the two portraits had looked so similar.

His portrait, just like Combeferre's portrait had love ingrained in every part of it.

Grantaire wrote him a love letter on a canvas and Enjolras didn't even realize it.

Hopefully they can all work on better communication in the future.

_ The future,  _ Enjolras thinks happily, with his two favorite people in the world.

 


End file.
